A green shell, yet no sap flows within,
Often hidden beneath the forest thicket.
It withers not in the sun, nor fades in the wind,
Releasing what rushes through the air.
Its edges are frayed, though none devours it,
Without loud words, it weaves riddles.
It takes more than a keen eye,
To discover what this silent rock conceals.
A green shell, yet no sap flows within,
Often hidden beneath the forest thicket.
It withers not in the sun, nor fades in the wind,
Releasing what rushes through the air.
Its edges are frayed, though none devours it,
Without loud words, it weaves riddles.
It takes more than a keen eye,
To discover what this silent rock conceals.
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